


Cuddling accident

by AmbecaWatson



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Accidents, Family Feels, Healing Cuddles, M/M, Mindless Fluff, References to Sex, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbecaWatson/pseuds/AmbecaWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl doesn't cope well with accidents and needs three people fussing over him until he's alright again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddling accident

**Author's Note:**

> Really just a spur of the moment fluff thing that's actually based on reality, because guess who just killed a cupboard today? I'll give you a hint. It's me. *facepalm*

“Damn shit,” a loud curse and a dull clonking sound coming from the kitchen simultaneously. 

“Daryl, you ok?” Rick asked, not giving up his position on the couch, Carl tugged in his arm, something the teen rarely allowed these days, but right now he was reading a comic, content to let his father brush over his head absentmindedly, relishing the closeness that was sooner or later gonna come to an end. So if there wasn't a major accident going on, he didn't want to break the moment, lazing around as the noises in the kitchen took on a definite whiny tone. 

Rick tightened his hold on Carl even as Judith got up and wobbled through the living room. The little girl was still cuddly, and would be for years to come, Rick thought, but moments like these had become rarer with Carl than Rick was comfortable with.

“Don't mind me dying in here or nuthin',” Daryl shouted angrily and Rick heard tapping little bare feet paddling into the kitchen rapidly, Judith checking up on her papa since dad wouldn't do it. 

“Papa, ouchie?” she asked, and then loud wailing was heard again, Rick needing a moment to determine who it was who was howling in there, child and man whining both at the same time now by the sounds of it. 

Carl closed his comic, getting up all gangly and too thin, typical teenager shuffling into the kitchen too to see what was going on and Rick stood up with a sigh, moment broken, calming of man and children obviously needed.

“What happened?” he stretched, and when he entered the room, the first thing he did was cuddle a crying Judith who hid her face in Carl's arms who was already calming her.

“Hey, prick. Over here. I'm the one whose foot got near ripped off.”

“Did you just call me a prick?” Rick titled his head, grinning a little as he saw the mess Daryl had made was nothing more than the loose cupboard door finally having fallen out, probably while Daryl was trying to get some stuff.

“What of it,” he bit out aggressively, kicking the door away and when Rick finally looked down, he saw that the wooden piece must have landed on Daryl's foot pretty hard, a red string of a mark already visible. “You are a damn prick, Rick.”

“Prick Rick. That rhymes with Grimes. And that rhymed too,” Rick chuckled, relieved that there was nothing much the matter. A grumpy husband and a minor bruise, he could deal with just fine.

“Fuck you,” Daryl groaned out, bringing his foot up to cradle it, groaning from having to stretch and possibly also from a slightly stinging pain shooting through it.

“Not in front of our children,” Rick chastised Daryl, opening the ice box and getting out a cooling pack. “Lean on me.”

“No,” Daryl groused, wanting to shove Rick off with a violent motion.

“Stop it,” Rick nudged him when Judith started sniffling louder again, not liking her daddies fighting and something in the blotched up toddler face finally brought Daryl's rampage to reason.

He tugged his arm around Rick, squeezing harder than he'd need to and hobbled over into the living room where he fell onto the couch, face forward, turned around after much coaxing and gentle stroking of his back and stuck out his foot with a petulant crossing of his arms that Rick knew full well, and which meant: “You fucking married me, now you're lawfully obliged to pamper me.”

Rick sat down with a chuckle, not enough room on the couch to sit comfortably with two large men on it instead of a man and a boy like before, so he laid Daryl's foot on the coffee table to have a look at it, but he didn't complain about nearly falling off as he carefully waggled Daryl's foot to see if anything hurt him.

“Don't be such a baby,” he hummed when Daryl hissed continuously at the treatment, and also when Carl had brought him a towel to wrap the ice pack in and pressed it onto Daryl's foot gently.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Daryl admitted grumpily, trying to appear pissed when Rick seemed to regain the calm he had a few minutes prior, and instead of brushing over his son's head, he now stroked up and down his husband's leg a few times, calming him.

“Ouchie?” Judith asked when Daryl was finally calm again and when he shook his head, she held out a hand to him, looking at Carl as if she was wondering why they weren't moving towards him already.

Carl just shrugged, adjusted his sister on his hip and sat down too, putting his feet on the coffee table immediately.

“Ey, don't put your feet on the table,” Daryl rasped much recovered now that he was cared for, Judy already sitting in his lap, rubbing her eyes and watching what Rick did with her eyes falling more and more shut by the minute. She was tired after her fright and her crying, and curled herself together on Daryl's torso while Rick was turning the ice pack around a couple of times, always laying the cooler side back on.

“Yours is too,” Carl reminded him.

“Yeah, but that's an exception. You get your foot nearly ripped off and then you can put it up too.”

“You're so whiny, and you're exaggerating,” Rick chuckled, just looking up in time to see Carl curling up at Daryl's side and the man throwing an arm around him with a 'no nonsense attitude' as if there was no getting out of cuddle time until he said so. Nice trick, Rick jotted that down into his mental memory for future use, and went on with: “Like seriously. You pretend to be all tough, but you're just crying like a baby when the furniture you built for us falls apart on you.”

“Yeah, that cupboard was a stupid son o' a bitch. Probably because you helped build it,” Daryl groused, pulling at Rick's shirt until he was curled up around his other side, cradling Judith's head, seeing that their little girl took a little early nap after all the excitement.

“You cursed again,” Rick mumbled.

“And you and your son got your damn feet on the table,” Daryl cursed again, petulantly kicking Rick's foot with his oh-so-injured one when Rick's were joining his and Carl's feet on the table as well.

“He's your son too,” Rick reminded Daryl. “And you cursed in front of him three times today.”

He leaned close to Daryl's ear and whispered, so that Carl, whose eyes were drooping slightly, wouldn't hear him: “Do that one more time and you won't get to bottom tonight.”

“You wouldn't,” Daryl rumbled in a flat tone, turning his head to stare daggers at Rick. 

“Sure would,” Rick grinned, putting their foreheads together. “Admit it, you just hurt yourself so the whole family would cuddle you.”

“Never,” Daryl shook himself a bit. “Never gonna admit that. It was Friday the 13th that did it.”

“You really hurting, sweetheart?” Rick's voice was much more tender now. 

“Yeah,” Daryl rumbled low in his throat, so not sounding hurt, but Rick instinctively knew what that tone of voice was for.

“Want me to make it all better?”

“Yeah,” Daryl invited him by tilting his head up slightly and Rick snorted a little as he kissed him gently, slow and sensual, not possibly leading to more, not with the kids around.

“Better?” he breathed heavily when he parted their mouths.

“Much,” Daryl nodded, his eyes nearly shut as he lounged against Rick's shoulder now, draping his head on it, adjusting Judy who's little fist tightened in his shirt, but who didn't wake up. Carl shifted with him, dragging one arm over Daryl and Judith until he reached Rick, who laid his cheek onto Daryl's head and took Carl's hand, thinking that the cuddling had just gotten so much better than before.


End file.
